


Where Angels Fear To Tread

by all-or-nothing-baby (BundleOfSoy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because of His Disability, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Has Feelings for Dean Winchester, Castiel Has Issues (Supernatural), Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues (Supernatural), Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel is Bad at Feelings (Supernatural), Castiel is Loved (Supernatural), Castiel is Scared of Commitment, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Community Worker Dean Winchester, Dean Has Had Therapy, Dean Winchester Helps Castiel, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Dean Winchester's Childhood, Dean Winchester's Terrible Life, Disabled Castiel (Supernatural), Disabled Character, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS), Healing Dean Winchester, Hypermobile Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, POV Alternating, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Soft Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BundleOfSoy/pseuds/all-or-nothing-baby
Summary: Castiel was so stupid.Notfalling for Dean had never been an option. He'd known that from the start but had just pretended everything would be okay because being near Dean felt so, so good. To think it could happen, that maybe if Dean could one day see past the…No. Hard no. Castiel knew theifsandmaybeswere stupid too.It was time to be honest with himself; honest with Dean.ORA modern AU where disabled Cas could have everything he wanted—if only he'd just allow himself.CURRENTLY ON HIATUS
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 24





	1. Castiel: The Fallen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiberAmans214](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/gifts).



> Written for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover and @specialagentrin and their awsome challenge @representationweek on Tumblr.
> 
> In this story, Dean is Soft!Dean and dealing with his past childhood trauma like a goddamn hero. Cas has a disability that can be invisible at times, go undiagnosed for (an average of twenty) years and affects your mobility and daily life more than considerably.
> 
> I've recently discovered I have the same condition Cas has, called hEDS aka Hypermobile Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which is a chronic and life-long condition that is still quite unheard of, even though many suffer from it. If anybody reading this is curious/concerned about symptoms etc, take a look at https://www.ehlers-danlos.com/ for all the best information.
> 
> These are only short chapters but it felt right to post as such seeing as I've written this in alternating POVs. I've just started chapter four but I'm still editing the others so I'll post chapters as they're ready. I've rated as Mature, as I've not yet finished and who knows what will happen? xD

"Cas, c'mon buddy..."

"No, Dean!"

"Cas, please. Will you just let me in?"

Castiel was so stupid.

 _Not_ falling for Dean had never been an option. He'd known that from the start but had pretended everything would be okay because being near Dean felt so, so good. To think it could happen, that maybe if Dean could one day see past the…

No. Hard no.

Castiel knew the ifs and maybes were stupid too. It was time to be honest with himself; honest with Dean.

Dean, who had come over to talk, after Cas had sent a text saying:

  
  
  


**Dean, don't come over. I don't want to talk about it.**

  
  
  


_so annoying; so adorable_

  
  
  


Shocker. On both parts.

There was no other human in all of existence that was anything like Dean Winchester, Castiel was sure of it. No other was so headstrong. No one as utterly persistent as he was, either. But there was also no rival to his caring nature. The man had given up his childhood and a career doing what he'd dreamed of, not just to help his younger brother survive, but to ensure the boy, Sam, had a bright future. He was fiercely loyal and loving towards those he cared for—even strangers. Dean helped anyone and everyone he could, no matter the cost to himself. He didn't see it as _goodwill_ , but as _why the hell wouldn't I?_ The work he did at the Lawrence Community Centre made Castiel burst with respect and pride. Dean was beautiful inside like he'd been touched by an angel… and on the outside? It was af if he'd been kissed by the Sun God itself; amber freckles on tan skin and gold-leaf flecks in big green eyes. There was just no soul alive brighter than his. And the things he knew about the way things worked, about people and life, were fascinating. Castiel could have Dean tell him stories forever, whether it was a _This One Time_ anecdote or a _Cars Are Just Like People_ lesson. Except Castiel couldn't do that to someone so special; it was a selfish desire to want to tie Dean down to a half-person such as Castiel. He now almost wished he'd never met Dean, the most perfectly imperfect man the world had ever seen... and the man he was completely and epically in love with.

  
  


_can't bear it a moment longer; say goodbye_

  
  


No. _Good God, no!_ That wasn't right. Castiel couldn't imagine life without Dean, now. Dean who texts him first thing every morning and last thing at night. Dean who had learned everything about his condition Castiel _usually_ had to explain to people, over and over again, so that Castiel didn't have to. Dean who had come into his life like a shining light and taught him to live and to laugh and to… no, he couldn't just banish Dean from his life. Could he? He should. Castiel just wished beyond reasonable expectation that things could be different. That his life—that _he_ —hadn't turned out to be... this.

Broken.

  
  


_defective; disappointing_

  
  


Castiel laughed sardonically in lieu of giving Dean a real answer. The alcohol sloshed around drunkenly inside of him, till he felt like a sailor who'd lost his sea-legs in a brawl. And the dumbest thing was, he didn't even like to drink. How horribly ironic this all was. Actually... no. This was much more than irony, Castiel decided. His situation, feeling only half alive, was more like some damned Murphy's Law paradox. Like he was stuck in Schrödinger's stupid box as a hypothetical cat. Or maybe it was just God entertaining himself with humanity's miseries.

"Cas, I just wanna talk…"

"You won't _stop_ talking. That's the problem, Dean."

Castiel would listen to Dean talk until either of their dying breaths. But he couldn't. Letting this thing between them continue just wasn't fair. To Dean.

Castiel used to believe he was free. Back when he was more capable; his _Proper-Self_ , when he was just... more. When he hadn't been restricted to his apartment four or five days out of seven, having to permanently carry around a fold-up walking stick in his bag and a FOR IN EMERGENCIES instruction card in his wallet. Back when, sure, he might have bruised terribly easily and gotten mysteriously random aches and plains, but could still work and spend his weekends out and about in nature and, for chrissakes, _date_ (as much as he had always loathed it a little). But before the almost daily dislocations had begun and he was exhausted by simple, everyday tasks most people don't even stop to think about; before those things—and all other symptoms of his Ehlers Danlos Syndrome had really begun to take their toll, grinding away at his joints and crushing his spirit till he sometimes didn't even feel all that human anymore—he had felt privileged with his lot. And he had been, in a lot of ways.

But now Castiel realised it hadn't really been freedom he'd experienced back then. Not fully.

Before Dean, Castiel had never actually dared to live at all. Yes, he could technically _do_ more—walk more, go to the movies more, travel more--but that didn't mean he had lived. Castiel had a few friends and the occasional lover, but ultimately he'd kept himself apart from others. Always at arm's length, emotionally. It was as if he'd towed some invisible line, scared of breaking unspoken rules. Adhered to someone else's criterion. He had always played it safe. A follower, never feeling as though he created his own fate. Now, he'd managed to reach a place where his mind felt pretty damn free, in the truest sense. He'd realised his life wasn't just something that was happening to him, and he could use his own free will to decide where to take it and how to _be_. Castiel had grown. He'd had his own revelation which helped him see he had always had this ability, in truth. To make his own decisions and live with the consequences, regardless of other's opinions. To choose many different paths, rather than following the one he'd thought he had to, could never stray from; to fight for what he believed in, and for what he wanted.

...but what about fighting for what he loved?

  
  


_or who_

  
  


Castiel stopped laughing. Even he didn't have the gall to laugh at that question.

"Dean, please just go home." Then Castiel whispered, too quietly for Dean to hear, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose..." reciting the lyric from memory.

Janis Joplin, she knew. Even if Kenny Rogers was the one who'd written the damn song, Janis knew. She was one of those eerie few who'd left this doomed rat-race at twenty-seven years old, having had so much but being able to cope with so little. _It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply_ , Castiel had heard quoted. He'd made it to thirty-two, but felt more like eighty-two most of the time, his bones creaking and his heart rate spiking at will… wait, how is he linking himself to Janis, here? His thoughts were in a rolling state of chronic Brain Fog, thoughts not always linking coherently to one another. Just another debilitating, messed up symptom.

It wasn't fair.

  
  


_negative, bitter and literally twisted_

  
  


Castiel had looked at it every which way but it just came back round to the very same conclusion, each and every time. Whenever he tried to see how it might work when choosing to agree with Dean— _choosing happiness_ —it always ended the same way: in resentment. Cruel to both of them, in the end.

Dean tried again. "C'mon, man. What about just opening the door? I'll stay out here on the stoop. I just wanna see your gorgeous face..."

  
  


_everything you could possibly want or need_

  
  


Castiel desperately wanted to let Dean in.

"No, Dean," he fought against his desire. For Dean's sake.

But Dean was stubborn, maybe even more so than Castiel. That's why he was no longer banging on the front window to be let inside to try and convince Castiel of why they should be together but slumped outside the patio doors around the back of Castiel's ground floor apartment. That and the fact he knew Castiel so well. Even though the curtains were haphazardly dragged shut—in spite of how Castiel hated feeling hemmed in—Dean must _know_ Castiel would have to be nestled into his sofa by this point in the evening. He was aching too much and too exhausted _not_ to be.

  
  


_weak and feeble_

  
  


"Look, Cas, I know you're scared but—"

"Dean, will you _please_ just go?" Castiel slurred, trying to keep the sob from his voice "I can't do this dance anymore. I've forgotten the moves and I'm… I'm just done."

  
  


_Dean deserved so much better_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading : )
> 
> Chapter Two will continue from Dean's POV...
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated!
> 
> Lucy <3


	2. Dean's Many, Many Duffle Bags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean was gone from the start. He'd met the crazy-haired hot guy with the inquisitive blue eyes at the community centre he worked at in downtown Lawrence. He'd wandered in one day, looking lost but hopeful, and Dean had offered his help, while butterflies did the goddamn Macarena in his belly. They'd clicked, and it had been like light switches being turned on simultaneously in both their heads, Dean had felt it. Then, from working with Cas so he could receive the right kind of help, to striking up a friendship which eventually lead to them becoming close...
> 
> Dean was now beyond the point of no return.
> 
> But now Cas was locking him out—both figuratively and literally.
> 
> Dean needed to change tactics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I somehow managed to delete half of the final draft of this, don't ask. Anyways, this is re-written to the best version my memory holds! I think it's pretty much the same so hey ho.
> 
> Continues from Dean's POV.

"Nope. Sorry Cas, but I ain't shiftin' my fine ass offa this stoop till you talk to me, sweetheart."

Nothing.

Dean was pretty sure Cas did _not_ want him to leave. He couldn't be sure, obviously, but he was pretty sure.

See, Dean had been there, in Cas' current Hell. His situation hadn't been exactly the same, as, physically, Dean was—apart from an old knee injury that gave him jip in the wintertime—physically fairly healthy. But his noggin? Yeah, not so much.

Dean had so much emotional baggage that some days, it'd topple over and knock him down, crushing and suffocating him beneath the weight. He was trying his damnedest to cope with the shit-stream that life had tried to drown him in. Dean had been to some dark places in his time and had consequently found a safe place to hide his emotions, early on. This was a place for people who knew they could never _really_ be loved, couldn't trust anyone's word; a place where a person could take all their crap, shut themselves in and lock the door behind them. Without a key, nobody else could enter… And Cas? He'd wound up finding the place too and had moved himself right in. And how did Dean know that? Because Dean had been a permanent resident of the _Always Alone Apartments_ block for years now.

Dean had lost his Mom, young, and things had never been the same since. His Dad had turned to the bottle to get him through each day but still couldn't cope. Which meant his kids couldn't rely on him—and it was Dean who'd had to pick up the pieces of last night's session every morning since he was pretty much four years old. All while, still a kid himself, doing his damned best to bring up a younger brother as well as he could. Learning to cook, to feed Sammy properly; making sure the little genius had all the extra school books he needed to challenge his way bigger than average brain, and working part-time jobs through school until he left early to earn a real crust just to keep clothes on the giant teen's back. So, Dean may be able to fix motors and was fairly well-read, but had always felt pretty ill-educated otherwise, ill at ease with dealing with his emotions and ill-equipped to have normal, stable relationships.

...until meeting Cas.

  
  


_intelligent; interesting; irresistible_

Dean was gone from the start. He'd met the crazy-haired hot guy with the inquisitive blue eyes at the community centre he worked at in downtown Lawrence. He'd wandered in one day, looking lost but hopeful, and Dean had offered his help, while butterflies did the goddamn Macarena in his belly. They'd clicked, and it had been like light switches being turned on simultaneously in both their heads, Dean had felt it. Then, from working with Cas so he could receive the right kind of help, to striking up a friendship which eventually lead to them becoming close...

Dean was now beyond the point of no return.

Cas was like nobody else Dean had ever known. In fact, he was sure there was no one else in the whole world even a little bit like Cas, not in the past, present nor would there be in the future. God—or whatever—went and broke the mould with Castiel Novak. Dude had an unrivalled curiosity about the world, about everything. And about Dean too, for some unfathomable reason. He was always interested in hearing Dean's opinion, in a way nobody else had expressed before him. Cas was also smart, like _Sammy_ smart. Knew things Dean would never even dream to ask about. He saw good in everyone and seemed like he was always absorbing information, trying to use it to be a better person, to connect with others. And Cas just sorta knew how to talk to Dean, like, knew the right things to say so Dean didn't feel like the dumb redneck he usually felt like when around genius folk. It was like Cas already knew who Dean was before he really knew him, you know? And to say Cas was hot was a goddamn understatement; Cas was like... those moments seeing the moon in the middle of the daytime, in a true-blue sky; rare and stunning. Beautiful. For the first time in a very long time, Dean was now trying to be brave with his emotions, not just for Cas but for himself. He knew he had to risk rejection, his Nemesis, if he wanted Cas. And Dean _really_ wanted Cas. Needed him 

  
  


_i.e. loved him_

  
  


But now Cas was locking him out—both figuratively and literally.

Dean needed to change tactics.

"Cas, if it starts to rain out here and I catch my death, you know Ellen will be over tomorrow to tear you a new one, right?" he tried, playing dirty now. "It'll be Walking Stick Wars at dawn, dude. And you know I ain't lyin'…"

Still nothing.

Dean could imagine the eye-roll though, seeing as Dean's surrogate Mom, Ellen, loved Cas too, and there was also nada chance of rain tonight and they both knew it. Cas was probably crying—he had cried every time Dean had seen him drink, which was the grand total of twice—but there would definitely now be that irritated and over-the-top quirk of Irked Castiel on display, even through those likely tears; his whole gorgeous body working hard to show his utter disdain to nobody but Meg the cat. Dean was so damn fond of the eye-roll he suddenly wanted to cry too at not being able to see the overly dramatic performance with his own eyes.

Dean heard the sniffles.

_shit_

What if he'd pushed Cas too hard…? Maybe Dean should just go. Maybe Cas just… actually didn't want this. Was Cas' emotional outburst all Dean's fault? Things usually were, after all. At least that's what Dean had been told repeatedly throughout his life, by his ex-partners especially.

Cassie, when Dean had tried to be open, had said his honesty was too much, couldn't handle the craziness that was his life, so Dean had put the emotional walls back up that he'd worked so hard to bring down. Lisa had said he had to give more, communicate better, but Dean didn't know how to anymore because of those emotional walls. Lee hadn't cared enough about Dean to even _try_ breaking the walls down, only ever wanting Dean for his car thieving skills, pretty eyelashes and tight ass—and had blamed Dean when he'd cheated on him.

And then there was Dad.

Maybe if Dean had been better at looking after Sammy, his old man would've liked him better? Maybe if Dean had gone to bed earlier the night his Mom was killed in the fire?

  
  


_screw up; asshole_

  
  


Dean guessed that's just what he did. He let down the people that he…

No.

Stop.

_breathe in… one, two, three, four, five_

_breathe out… six, seven, eight, nine, ten_

No. _Fuck that_. Dean was _not_ playing the _what if?, the_ _maybe_ or _I guess_ game anymore. He was working through his shit and was actually starting to believe none of what happened in his past was down to him. None of it. Dean messed up sometimes, sure. But he was learning, slowly but definitely, that not everyone else's issues are his fault.

_not always to blame_ for _everything that turns bad_

Maintaining that mindset was hard though, is all. Sometimes, Dean still screwed up at the whole being kind to himself thing. But that was okay. He was getting there.

He just wanted to be able to help Cas understand it can be okay for him too. And maybe to get him somewhere in the ballpark of believing Dean, when he tells him he's in love with him.

...instead of taking off in a cab and leaving Dean on the sidewalk, confused as hell, having to run back and grab their coats from the theatre bar's cloakroom, then hail his own taxi.

  
  


_so fucking complicated; so freakin' cute_

  
  


After being ignored when he tried to call, Dean, in turn, had ignored the text Cas sent him instructing him _not_ to come over.

  
  


_like hell_

  
  


He'd taken a quote from his surrogate Dad Bobby's phrasebook—which he and Sam should really try to get published someday—and had simply texted back:

  
  
  


**DO I LOOK LIKE A DITCHABLE PROM DATE TO YOU?**

  
  
  


...which was also ignored. Dean was completely empathetic to what Cas was going through, but he was certainly not going to let Cas push him away. Dean could see this was a classic case of self-sabotage. Takes one to know one

He could now hear Cas blowing his nose. It probably looked red and sore like his eyes would too, and the thought made Dean's heart hurt.

  
  


_do something, dumbass_

  
  


Dean knew he couldn't just overtly flirt his way through this one. Didn't want to, to be honest, even if the natural gift he had did work for him in more situations than not. He was really serious about Cas and didn't want to blow this, like so many other things he'd messed up in his life.

But maybe he had one other secret weapon to try and crack Cas' protective shell.

Dean now cleared his throat. He knew Cas could hear him perfectly well with the patio's top windows wide open. It was August and hot and must have still been in the high eighties, even this late in the evening. So, Cas hadn't yet used his plastic grabby hand to pull them shut. Dean cleared his throat again, louder this time, using the sound as a sort of introduction for what was coming.

He needed Cas' full attention for this.

"Alright, you asked for this Cas. Here goes nothin'..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with it! I'm really struggling with creative block at the moment so I'm kinda hating on this a bit BUT glad to be producing something, at least. Regardless, I hope those of you reading it will get something out of it; I know it's angsty af right now, but there is sunshine on the horizon, I promise : )
> 
> Chapter three is a much shorter one and will be up real soon...
> 
> Lucy <3


	3. Breathe, Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had to stop saying it. He had to stop saying he loved Castiel. That's what had caused Castiel to flee in the first place.
> 
> _can't give in_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a teensy-weensy chapter but (hopefully) a satisfying one...
> 
> Castiel's POV

What the… was Dean—was Dean really, actually doing this?

  
  


_Christ-o, the neighbours_

  
  


Dean was a little wobbly at first—and definitely quite tuneless—but going for it, none-the-less.

"You are my Sun-shine…"

  
  


_oh, dear God_

  
  


"...my only Sun-shine."

Dean really was actually doing this. He was singing to Castiel through Castiel's patio window, like a regular All-American 6'1" Romeo.

Castiel wanted to be furious at Dean. _Needed_ to be furious.

"You make me hap-py…"

"Dean, no."

"...with eyes of blue."

Castiel tried to be furious. He really did.

"Dean, please stop," he requested. But even with the self-pitying tears still fresh in his eyes, he had to work hard now to keep a traitorous smile from infiltrating his voice.

"I'll make sure, Cas

that you'll know I love you…"

Dean had to stop saying it. He _had_ to stop saying he loved Castiel. That's what had caused Castiel to flee in the first place.

"...So please don't think…"

  
  


_can't give in_

  
  


"...I don't need

you too-ooo-ooo."

  
  


Castiel's eyes closed and his head fell to his hands.

At hearing the last line in Dean's song, his heart had tightened in his chest, an iron fist clenching around it. Now, picturing Dean sat out on the stoop in Castiel's yard—starlight reflecting in his gold-green eyes; hair mussed from running hard-working, stressed-out fingers through it; sentencing himself to the cold mercy of being heard by Frank, Castiel's grumpy-ass neighbour, by singing a cute romantic song and changing the words to customize it, just for them, just for _Castiel_ —that iron fist relaxed without his consent, leaving Castiel's heart open to beat faster and more freely than he had let it in a long time.

_he needs me too_

He shouldn't have downed so much whiskey, it was making him soft to the touch of Dean's voice, so funny and out of key and the most wonderful thing Castiel had ever heard. It was allowing him to feel everything he wanted to feel.

  
  


_want; need... love_

  
  


Castiel took a deep, brave breath and opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone guess Dean might use his especially wonderful combination of humour, tenderness and honesty via the medium of song (I may just have a thing for Dean singing to Cas, all out of key, okay?) to woo his sweetheart? Told you in previous notes that some SUNSHINE was on the horizon *smug*
> 
> The song Dean is borrowing is "You Are My Sunshine", a song popularized by Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell in 1939, but is maybe more well-known as being sung by Johnny Cash in later years.
> 
> So, is Cas gonna let Dean in now?
> 
> Chapter four will be up soon... Thanks for reading, lovelies!
> 
> Lucy <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Next chapter coming soon...
> 
> Come find me on Dumblr™ @all-or-nothing-baby
> 
> Lucy <3


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